


Fear in the Darkness

by cadkitten



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Anal Sex, Bisexual Male Character, Dry Humping, Hand Jobs, M/M, Medical Procedures, Mental Instability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 08:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6071752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tipping his head down, he pushed his nose against his knees and closed his eyes, a huge shiver ripping through him. Clenching his teeth, he jolted against the sound of gunshots down the block. These things never used to do anything to him... didn't when he wasn't in the middle of one of these episodes. After all, Bruce had taught him a million times better than this. He'd guided him into not living his life in fear and he'd shown him how to overcome any opponent. The one thing he'd never shown him though was how to overcome his own mind. How to crawl past everything that had come down to consume him after he'd clawed his way out of his own grave; terrified and alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear in the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [racabaca](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=racabaca).



> Happy belated birthday, Bruce! He shares a birthday with my husband.  He wants me to use Alanis Morissette's You Oughta Know as a basis for a fic for Under the Red Hood.

Brilliant light flashed outside the window, the rain pelting down even harder as the storm moved in overhead. Jason huddled against the wall of the empty warehouse, his arms tucked tight around his body and his breath coming out in little steaming pants against the chill of the room. A shiver ripped through him and he brought his legs up against his chest, clutching them close, hands tucked behind his knees in an attempt to keep them warmer. His suit wasn't doing a damn thing to keep him warm anymore, not after four days and nights of this. Not after the lack of food in his system and definitely not after the chill he'd put on his own soul with his actions toward Bruce a few days before. 

Tipping his head down, he pushed his nose against his knees and closed his eyes, a huge shiver ripping through him. Clenching his teeth, he jolted against the sound of gunshots down the block. These things never used to do anything to him... didn't when he wasn't in the middle of one of these episodes. After all, Bruce had taught him a million times better than this. He'd guided him into not living his life in fear and he'd shown him how to overcome any opponent. The one thing he'd never shown him though was how to overcome his own mind. How to crawl past everything that had come down to consume him after he'd clawed his way out of his own grave; terrified and alone. 

_Alone._ Another shudder ripped through him and his stomach seized up, threatening him with the little amount of water he'd put in earlier as it attempted full systems reverse. He pushed through it, breathing it down, and then tucked his head closer down against his knees, letting it hide his face completely. He felt so alone, even though he knew the entire city was out there, half of them probably out to kill specifically him. It was a thought that normally would have comforted him, but now drove him into anguish and terror. His hands clenched into tight fists, his nails digging in, and he fought to keep his breathing even. 

Swallowing down hard again, he reached his hands up when the next roll of thunder came in, pushing his hands against his ears and starting to rock. His breathing escalated and he swore he could taste dirt, that he could smell the musty old smell of earth as it rained down around him. His eyes opened wide, but he saw nothing, the world fuzzing out in front of him as he began to hyperventilate. 

Something banged harder and louder than the thunder, enough to penetrate his hands over his ears and he felt himself starting to scream. His throat instantly felt raw and abused and after a minute, he could taste the first start of iron in his mouth. His hands pushed harder over his ears, his entire body trembling with the force of his screams, something he couldn't have stopped if he'd tried for a hundred years to make it stop. He knew... he knew from too many times of this happening; this endless cycle of being okay, turning his back on everything he knew, growing more and more bloodthirsty, and then plunging into this madness until it kicked him into blackness for a few days. And when he came to, he'd be weak, half-dead... but mentally stable. It was those times that he craved, the he desperately wanted to keep ahold of. And it was during those times that he knew he'd never react a way he didn't intend to.

An icy prickle slid down his neck and arm. He could feel it spreading up toward his skull and then he was gone, the sensation of falling the last thing he grasped before everything ceased to exist.

\------

Warmth surrounded him. Soft, pillowy warmth that he hadn't felt the likes of in years. Turning his head lightly, he pushed his nose against the fabric, his cheek rubbing at the softness as he inhaled the all-too-familiar scent. It was one he knew he'd never forget, not for a million years, not for a hundred lifetimes... and certainly not within this one. _Bruce Wayne_. It wasn't the scent of Batman; not all leather and armor, oil and the faint undertone of electrical components. It wasn't blood and the grime of the city... and it wasn't the warehouse he'd been in. No, this was the faintest hint of cologne, the scent of Alfred's preferred detergent choice, the gentle scent of the wood from the fireplace, and the most intimate of undertones that indicated Bruce had actually slept here before. The tang of his sweat, the hint of something more... and Jason's pulse skittered frantically as he remembered a dozen moments of his youth, times when the storms had riled him up to the point he'd crawled in bed with Bruce and woken up to this very scent. How it had affected him then... how it was affecting him now.

With a little groan, he slid his hand out in search of anyone else in the bed. Bruce's side wasn't even warm, which meant he'd probably given up his bed for Jason. He didn't even question how he was here, didn't really care. Of all the ways to come back out of hell, this was the only one he ever wanted. Rolling onto his stomach, he arched, his back popping and his hips pushing forward into the mattress. Yawning, he rubbed his cheek again and tugged the pillow down so it was under his head and chest, his arms wrapped around it. He could feel the light pull of sleep pants around his hips, but nothing else, and he knew someone had cleaned him because he didn't smell like the streets anymore. 

The image of Bruce showering him off in the cave came to him and he hid his smile away in the fluff of the pillow, letting his hips roll one more time. He remembered the one time he'd woken up a bit over-excited by the idea of being in Bruce's bed... the one time Bruce had still been there. It had to have been that day that Bruce hadn't rolled out of bed at three in the damn morning. At first, he'd seen shock and then he'd seen something else flash dark and helpless inside of Bruce's eyes. A glimpse of his soul, perhaps... or maybe more like an instant reflection of his desire. It was that one that a much younger version of himself had clung onto for a hundred nights thereafter, desperate to believe Bruce Wayne - mother fucking Batman - wanted him. It had only been there a second and then it had vanished, consumed by the unreadable depths once again. And he'd never seen it again; not once. Not even when Bruce looked at the women he dated. 

Jason rolled over before he could let himself slip into old habits, shaming himself further than he probably already had by being found screaming and crazed in a warehouse just inside Gotham city limits. Slipping the sheets down, he stood and managed a few steps before dizziness hit him hard. He started to slip toward the floor, leaning heavily against the wall beside the bed with a dull thump.

Within seconds, warm arms were around him, hauling him up from the floor. _Bruce_. Closing his eyes, Jason let himself sag into Bruce's arms, one arm looping up around Bruce's shoulders, holding on as he was lifted and cradled against his broad chest. Wetting his lips, he breathed out a quiet, "Food..." The answering rumble came from Bruce's chest, the feeling of it vibrating through his body. Smiling to himself, he held on just a little harder for the moment.

When they stopped moving, they were in the library and Bruce gently settled him into the giant leather chair he had loved so much as a teenager. For a few minutes, he was alone, and then Bruce was back, holding a tray with a thin soup, a glass of water with only a few cubes of ice, and some plain toast on the side. Jason waited as Bruce put the tray on the little rolling table and pushed it in front of him. His gaze traveled with him until Bruce settled on the chair opposite him, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other, his gaze focusing on something on the far wall. He knew it was providing him the privacy to eat, to do it however he needed to after not having had anything for so long. And the choice of meal spoke for itself, telling him Bruce knew it had been too long if he gave him things that would stay down rather than rich foods that would come right back up.

Ripping off a piece of the toast, he dipped it in the soup, trying not to gobble it down the moment the flavor of it hit his tongue. Three more bites and a sip of water, a few spoonfuls of soup and he shifted, careful to pause now, quietly watching Bruce instead. He could already feel the slight shift in his body, in the way it was relieved to find food incoming.

The process repeated itself until the soup and water were gone, one piece of toast gone, the other waiting on the edge of his plate for a bit later. He shifted then, pulling one knee up, foot resting on the edge of the chair as he studied Bruce. Right then, he felt so small... so young and nearly innocent. It was like when he'd gotten a cold and actually passed out on Bruce out on patrol once. The fatherly love and tender care that Jason had never taken to mean what it did... the way he was so distant while not being at all. 

The images of his life began to fall back into place and he shifted his gaze, finding Bruce's hands and watching them, refusing to let go of this feeling so quickly. There were things Bruce needed to know... things he needed to hear before everything tore him apart again. His breath hitched lightly as he drew it in, swallowing at the end of the breath and then breathing it back out as a sigh to earn himself Bruce's gaze. Once he had it, he just let it all go, pushing it out in a rush of words. "I woke up in my own grave and I lived on the streets for a long time with no idea who the hell I was. All I had was your name... only Bruce, not even Bruce Wayne. I don't know how long it was, but it all clicked in place and then... then everyone was after me again. But I wasn't," he shook his head, frowning a little at Bruce's hands. "I wasn't right. And it's worse now. Or better. But different. Talia... and the pit... and everything between us..." he could feel his mind clouding again and he began to breathe quickly, his hands curling into fists again. He was losing it, the fragile quick grip on reality so much shorter this time and he hated it, hated it with a passion. He knew in a few moments he would be back to the clouded murderer he had become after the pit, to the man that ripped his soul apart as he watched from the cage somewhere deep inside his mind.

Looking up, he locked eyes with Bruce, terror written across his features. "Stop me... please God. _Help_ me." 

The anger washed over him a second later, hot and blinding and it took everything in him not to launch himself at Bruce. He could feel his face changing, the anger washing over everything else. Just when he went to move, something pricked against his neck and the ice began to spread again. He eased up, slowly sinking back against the chair and watching Bruce's form swim in and out of his vision, coming closer and closer. He felt his arms around him and the sensation of being picked up. 

\---------

When Jason came around again, he could feel the chill of the cave around him, that slightly damp coldness that permeated no matter how hard you warded against it. Even wrapped in two blankets, he was still like ice and he wondered if that had something more to do with the IV hanging from his arm than from the chill of the cave. He turned his head, finding Alfred watching him quietly from a chair in the corner. "I see you have decided to re-join us."

He cracked a small smile at Alfred before lolling his head to the other side, blinking sleepily up at Bruce, who was now towering over him. His mine felt less clouded, freer than it had in a long time, despite the level of grogginess associated with it. But when he opened his mouth to talk, he found the words thick on his tongue, as though he were talking through cotton. "Clearer... but... drugged?"

Bruce's eyes met his own and he gave a single nod of his head. "We are working on it. But you need to be conscious."

Jason blinked at Bruce again, then focused on the ceiling above him, on the harsh bright white of the light overhead despite how it hurt his eyes. When he looked away, there was darkness where he'd looked directly at the light. Dark voids like there was in his psyche. He huffed out a little laugh at the idea of it, letting himself watch Bruce instead as he worked over the screens positioned over his abdomen.

A low-level hum began in his head and he sucked in a breath. Bruce glanced at him and gave him a little nod, letting him know it was supposed to be happening. He concentrated on it, letting it consume his thoughts for the time being, letting it stop him from wandering into territory that would make him want to rip Bruce's throat out again. Every once in a while, he blinked languidly, his mind flattening out until he cared about nothing other than the sound, until his vision began to haze into the same humming static, until he began to drift.

And just like that, he was back, as though Bruce had snapped his fingers and yanked him right back into his body. The drugs were gone, the humming was gone, and even the faint dots from the lights were gone, replaced by a clarity he'd lacked for years now. A shudder ran through his body and he shifted, starting to sit up. Alfred's hand stopped him, a hand on his shoulder, holding him lightly against the table.

Bruce met his gaze and they stared one another down for a moment before Bruce spoke. "Who am I?"

"Bruce Wayne... Batman."

"Who are you?"

"Jason Todd..." his face fell just enough he could tell he'd let it slip out and he had to look away from Bruce before he offered a quiet, "Red Hood. Former Robin."

"Alfred, may we have a moment?" Jason could feel Alfred leave despite the fact that he didn't look up to see him leave the room. "Tell me one thing I would know about you that no one else would."

Jason lifted his eyes to Bruce's own again. Anguish filled his heart and he knew instantly what he needed to say, what would prove everything beyond a shadow of a doubt. It was the one thing he could never have told Bruce in his prior state, no matter how much he had still felt it. After all, that was why Bruce was doing this pop-quiz, wasn't it? He pulled himself up and this time no one stopped him. The tangle of cords kept him from going anywhere and he let them, mindful of them. He just needed to suck it up and say it, just take the plunge and see where it threw him out. Quietly, "I'm in love with you; have been since probably four or five months before I died."

The way Bruce's face shifted, the way he couldn't even stop it from displaying what he felt made Jason feel at least a little bit better about what was going on. He could read every display of it: shock, surprise, disbelief... belief... pity, and then affection. There was a warmth in the last part of it that Jason had never once expected to see. Twining his hands in his lap, he let his gaze find his hands instead, finding the last bit of it too intense to keep staring. "You didn't know... did you?"

Bruce reached to start unhooking the cables from Jason, carefully peeling up the tape holding them down all over his back and head and arms. "I think some part of me suspected it back then. But I ignored it."

"And now? Are you going to ignore it now?"

"If I thought you were, in any way, still impaired as you were earlier... I would." The last piece of tape came up and Bruce turned to dump it all in the trash, moving the mess of cables away from Jason.

Jason swallowed, reaching to catch Bruce's wrist, his touch feather-light, though Bruce let him maintain it. "But now... you won't? Ignore it, I mean."

Bruce turned and in an instant, he had his hand in Jason's hair, his free hand on Jason's back, and one knee on the bed. Leaning in dangerously close, their eyes met and Bruce's burned with a fire that Jason had never once seen there. His own breath caught as he stared at him, a shiver of desire shoving down through his body. "I may not have been aware of your affection, but I assure you, I was well aware of your... other sentiments."

Jason's heart thumped hard in his chest and he breathed out a quiet laugh, a certain freedom coming with the knowledge that Alfred hadn't covered his tracks every single time. He eased in Bruce's hold, a lazy little smile curving his lips. "Did you ever want to see?"

"I would never." Bruce's voice was nearly cold now, an instant switch being flipped somewhere inside of him. "You were only a child, Jason."

"I didn't ask if you _did_... only if you wanted to." Jason slid one hand up and over Bruce's arm, over the taught muscles of his arms, his breath quickening as he let his fingers travel. It was innocuous... perfectly innocent. But it felt like a million amazing things and left him nearly quivering inside. 

There was a gruff edge to Bruce's tone this time and Jason could feel his hand tightening against his back. "This is a dangerous path."

Jason shifted then, everything abrupt and utterly uncalculated just to throw Bruce off his game, to leave him at a loss intentionally. It had always been the one thing he'd been able to best him at: acting completely in opposition to all expected turns of every situation. His arm looped around Bruce's shoulders and he swept himself off the table long enough to get his knees under himself, leaving him pressed along the length of Bruce's torso, his other hand on the swell of his thigh, gripping the muscle there hard. His fingers slid along the fabric of his pants, finding every dip and bulge, finding his way all the way back to his ass, cupping it and squeezing with a groan. "God, I've always wanted to do that..."

"Jason," Bruce breathed out his name, no longer in warning. This time it was with a heat that Jason had only dreamed would be directed at him over all that time with Bruce. Squeezing again, he let out a breathy, "Say it again."

"No." The word was followed an instant later by his collapse back onto the table, Bruce's body following over his own, forcefully spreading his thighs, his grip only there, tight enough to bruise. And Jason had never been happier to be marked by something in his entire life. His hips surged upward, meeting Bruce's full-on, a startled cry leaving him when he found just how hard Bruce was. His length pushed against the front of his trousers in a way that had to be painful, had to be at least uncomfortable as Jason rocked against it, his own cock swelling rapidly in response to the whole situation. 

Nothing could have prepared him for how much Bruce seemed to want him, for how clearly it seemed that he was willing to do this to him. Right here, right then.

Jason let his head fall back over the edge of the table, let Bruce do anything he wanted with him. He felt the way his hands pulled the fabric of his sleep pants over his hips, under his ass, and then down his legs and away from his body. He felt the slickness of Bruce's fingers entering him, his own eagerness forcing him to rut down toward the fingers as they entered him. He didn't question where the lube had come from or anything else. Not in a moment like this. Not when he was about to get everything he wanted.

Bruce's hand retreated. "On your knees."

He was quick to move, rolling over onto his side and then squirming around to get himself onto his knees. He spread his thighs and presented himself to Bruce, tipping his hips, pushing his rear end up. Bruce's hands came to rest on his hips and then the warmth of Bruce's cock was filling him, stretching him. Jason let out a cry of pleasure, bucking his hips back toward Bruce, pushing him all the way in. His hands gripped the table hard and he could have sworn he was probably so hard he was leaking.

Bruce's hands splayed over either side of his pelvis and he began to thrust, leaning over him to speak to him as he moved, his thrusts short and hard. "I imagined this, Jason... once I knew what you were doing in my bed. After the one time I caught you. I imagined you on your knees, just like this... for me." He thrust in quicker, hips snapping so hard the sound of their union echoed in the small room. "How sweetly you'd beg for my cock... and how much you'd scream when I started to really give it to you." His pace picked up even more, became frantic and obviously unbridled. "I never... never forgave myself for it."

Jason let out a thin whine, shifting all of his weight onto one arm and reaching to hold his hand over Bruce's, gripping his fingers and then tugging them down to his neglected length. He guided his hand around his cock and helped to set the pace before he found it in him to reply. Bowing his head, he watched Bruce stroke his cock, felt the way he thrust into him with pure desire. "Forgive yourself, Bruce... I'm a grown man and you fixed me up. I want this... I wanted this, even then."

The hard snap of Bruce's hips sent him crying out and he glanced up just in time to see Alfred's slightly shocked face. He met his eyes and breathed out, "I _want_ this... forgive yourself," once again, hoping it would settle something in Alfred's gaze. Their butler turned away and Jason closed his eyes, letting Bruce support more of his weight he focused on the pleasure of it rather than on holding himself up.

The new angle shifted him just enough that Bruce slid past his prostate and he whimpered, his cock flexing hard in Bruce's grip. For the first sexual experience in his life, Jason could actually feel his balls tightening up against his body, could feel how quickly he was approaching his end. He whined louder and Bruce thrust faster. Tilting his hips, he found another brush against his wonderful place and then a full-on thrust against it, and he nearly choked on a scream of Bruce's name.

Behind him, he heard the groan of, "Oh God... _Jason_ ," and then Bruce's control snapped. He could feel it in every thrust, in every twist of his hips... in the way he would have said Bruce was nearly breeding him instead of fucking him. He clawed at the table and hissed out, "Bruce... Bruce... oh God, you're cumming."

Bruce's hips stilled and Jason could actually feel the throb of his cock as he came, the feeling of it at the tight muscle of his entrance. Shuddering hard, he let out a cry and then he was gone, falling... _falling... ... ... falling_.

And then there was nothing but blackness again.

\-------

Jason came to, uncomfortable and aching in places no one should ever have to ache. His stomach felt like someone was clawing at him from the inside out and his throat ached in a way that forced him to swallow repeatedly in some strained attempt to get saliva. His eyelids cracked open and he found the dingy floor of the warehouse. His body was still coated in the grime of the street and his hair was now matted to his head by the spray of water that had come in from the crack high up in the windows above him.

Shifting himself into an upright position, he sighed, easing one leg up and pushing his forehead against his knee. One more dream... one more time he couldn't do anything but grasp at the horrible straws of his mind and try to make something more pleasant out of them. But this time... _this time_ he had surfaced with a bit more strength of resolve, with another reason to want to make his mind cooperate with him and not lose itself off the deep end again.

Forcing himself up onto his feet, he struggled toward the cup he'd left under where the fine mist of rain had been coming in and knelt, picking it up and sipping from it. Relief spilled through him at the water and right then, he couldn't focus a single bit on if it was smog-filled rain or not. Standing, he checked on his guns and then forced one foot in front of the other. 

Today was another day and this one... this one was the beginning of the rest of this chapter of his life. This was the start of the part where he would find a way to refocus his hatred of Bruce into something else, something more productive. And while he'd told himself this a thousand times... today he actually felt it.


End file.
